


When We Find Some Time Alone

by repeatogirl



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, F/M, Gen, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Scars, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4499403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/repeatogirl/pseuds/repeatogirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's only been a detective for six months. She's barely out of the academy. They both owe Duncan their lives.</p>
<p>A modern cop AU told in snippets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tryst

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the basic premise:  
> Initially, Alistair only knew her as Duncan’s CI. Every time he's seen her, it’s been from a parked car, half a block away. He was told to wait.
> 
> When Duncan meets an untimely and highly suspicious death, Alistair tracks her down, not because he thinks she had something to do with it, but because he knows she’ll have answers.
> 
> Turns out, she’s actually working undercover and the two of them work together to solve Duncan’s murder, amidst all the chaos caused by Loghain's poor decisions.
> 
> (originally posted on [tumblr](http://repeatogirl.tumblr.com/post/114002872779/tabristair-take-on-the-classic-duncan-alistair))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They shouldn't be spending this much time together– it should be longer.
> 
> Sometimes it's a safe house and sometimes it's his apartment, but either way, she usually has to go out the fire escape in the dead of night.

He’s absolutely  _spent_ , pleasantly breathless and dazed as Tabris rolls off of him and curls up by his side. He pulls her close, murmuring in her hair, “Stay this time. Just tonight.”

She hums, but only in acknowledgment, not in agreement, fingers idly tracing a scar on his bicep. “.45?”

He lets her change the subject and laughs, a rumble that warms her entire body. He brushes the hair off her right shoulder, exposing a nearly identical scar. “You would know.”

“Got it the second month on the job. Chased after a guy, didn’t notice his partner until it was too late. You?”

Alistair cringes before sheepishly admitting, “Training exercise gone wrong.”

She untangles from him and props herself up against his chest, eyes wide, slack-jawed.

He scrunches his face, “I meant, saving a baby from a burning building? Wait, no, that doesn’t even make sense, how about–”

She shuts him up with a kiss, laughter on her lips. She doesn’t have to leave just yet.


	2. Trace Evidence

It’s another night in Alistair’s apartment. They’re both aware of how much they’re risking by meeting here instead of at a safe house, but tonight, convenience takes priority.

Comfortably compact, Tabris is curled up against a sleeping Alistair, his head lolling back and resting on the top of the couch, one arm draped lazily over her shoulder. She’s going over the crime scene photos of Duncan’s ransacked apartment for what’s probably the hundredth time.

There’s something missing, she knows it. Reluctantly, she detaches from him and rearranges the photos on the coffee table.

Although he’s quick to fall asleep, Alistair’s actually quite a light sleeper and he stirs from her absence. “What’d you find?” he asks, his voice still groggy.

She frowns. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you. Already got to the point where I didn’t even notice the snoring.”

“Ha. Ha. You find it charming, don’t lie.” He leans forward and kisses her neck, so quick and light that she shivers in surprise. She can feel him smirking at her response before moving in closer, his chest flush against her back, chin perched on her shoulder. “Really though, what did you see?”

“It’s just a hunch. More like there’s something I’m not seeing… You and I both know he was on to something; there must be something he left behind, something he didn’t trust leaving at the station. Did you check everywhere? All the hiding places?”

“All he had was a small safe, hidden in the back of his closet.”

Tabris quirks an eyebrow and scoffs, “A man like Duncan leaving something important in a basic safe? Now I _know_ there’s something missing.”

Alistair stiffens, pulling away ever so slightly. “What do you mean, ‘a man like Duncan’?” he asks, slow and full of suspicion.

She winces at his tone. Twisting a little to her right, she turns to face him and places hand on his collarbone in an attempt to pacify him. She rests her forehead against his and thankfully he relaxes at the contact. “I’m sorry. I only meant… well, did he ever tell you about his life before law enforcement?”

He shakes his head. “Come to think of it, the earliest he’s ever talked about was twenty years ago, when he did a tour of duty down the Deep Roads.”

“Well, he was was much younger… Duncan used to be on the other side of the law.”

Wide-eyed, he draws back just enough so Tabris can see his skepticism. “Duncan? Tall, dark, always punctual, and never-laughs-at-my-jokes Duncan? I guess maybe the ponytail says something but- Duncan?!”

Chuckling, she nods earnestly. “His apartment is only two floors up, right? Since it’s on the same side of the building, all I need to do is make it up the fire escape and through the window, easy enough. These latches you guys have really aren’t anything special–”

He can barely contain his laughter and amusement before he interrupts her grand plan by brandishing a key. “What about the front door?” They were partners. Of course he has a spare key.

She rolls her eyes, but still blushes at her blunder. He catches it and grins; it’s usually the other way around, with him red-faced at the end of a smart remark. He kisses her on the temple as she turns away to stand up.

“I know you’re blushing, love; it’s your ears that give you away.”


	3. Signals Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She comes in through the window anyway.

They agreed she'd wait five minutes before coming in the front door while he did quick sweep for any potential bugs. Even though the initial investigation deemed Duncan's apartment cleaned, they still can't be too sure who to trust.

Plus, it gives him an opportunity to use his new EMP generator. Alistair rechecks the common hiding places, which is easy enough given the man's spartan lifestyle; he goes through the battery compartment in the television remote, runs his fingers underneath the edges of the desk, and finally inspects the analogue mantle clock. The only thing askew is the time. Despite the futility, Alistair winds it up again, correcting the hands. It's the least he can do.

He returns to the front door to wait for her, then pushes the button on the generator, leaving the _tick-tick-tick as_ the only sound in the room. That is, until he hears the _click_ of the window latch from the bedroom.

He slowly makes his way toward her, eyes still adjusting to the darkness. "Didn't we just talk about this?"

Barely halfway through and body contorted, Tabris somehow manages a shrug. Not that he's complaining about her flexibility.

"What if someone was watching across the street?" He's got her there. It's the second faux-pas of the night– a reckless one at that– and he can feel her tense up as he helps her into the room, one hand holding hers, the other around her waist. She doesn't need the assist, but he's should be a gentleman, right?

She lets him. Feet firmly planted on the floor, she gives herself a moment to enjoy the way his body practically engulfs hers. As if to justify the proximity, she plucks the device from his pocket. "Well, it's a good thing you went the extra mile then. You're just full of surprises, aren't you? Got any other secrets you wanna share, detective?"

The darkness is both a boon and a curse because he can only imagine what sultry expression she's wearing to match that tone and he's well aware of what that might do to him. With a groan, he manages to pull himself away. "We have work to do, remember?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I credit pop-culture for my scientifically inaccurate understanding of what EMP generators can do.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Fiona Apple's _Anything We Want_ – is there a more perfect undercover romance song?


End file.
